Waiting
by V. vulpes
Summary: Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark in a Blackwater AU of sorts. Things happen much differently to the "unkiss" in the books.


**Waiting  
**

"_**I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. "Still can't bear to look, can you?" she heard him say.**_

Sansa tightened her jaw and opened her eyes. She glared at Clegane, challenging him, annoyance overtaking her fear. She would look at him, if that's what he wanted. As she stared she considered the curious sense of disappointment she felt when he hadn't kissed her. Sansa felt her cheeks redden and prickle with heat. She was embarrassed at herself. She wanted to look away but her pride compelled her to stay stubbornly still. Unblinking, she shifted her gaze from his narrow grey eyes to the thin line of his mouth. She didn't look hard at his scars but didn't disregard them either. They didn't frighten her the way they had when first she saw him. They were just there, just as he was there now, and she felt her fear of him subside. She looked from his mouth to his eyes again, resolute. Tilting her head back almost imperceptibly, she took a deep breath, lips parting ever so slightly, and let her lids fall heavily over her eyes. She wondered what he would do now. She had proved to him that she could look at the ruin of his visage without trembling fearfully or turning away to save her sight. She had even convinced herself that he was nothing much to fear after all. She waited.

Then she felt a slight pressure on the corner of her mouth, a whisper of a kiss as he ghosted his lips over hers. He was so gentle. It reminded her of the day Joffrey had made her look at her father's head impaled high up on the battlements of the Red Keep. She recalled how bold she had felt when she told her intended that her brother might give her his head one day. Now she could scarcely believe her imprudence. Ser Meryn had struck her at the King's command and split her lip. Clegane touched her then, before she could shove her betrothed off the walkway, hand shaking as he wiped the blood from her mouth. He had been so delicate, as he was now, his lips pressed to the same spot. He pulled back but Sansa didn't open her eyes. She was distracted by her memories, absorbed in her thoughts as she compared that moment to this. She was jolted into the present as his grip tightened on her arms. He kissed her again, but not delicately as before. He fixed his mouth over hers, pulling at her bottom lip with his teeth. He carried on, sucking at her lip, and she felt his tongue briefly press against hers. He tasted of wine and sweat, and she could feel the sinewy tightness of his scars, but to her surprise the experience wasn't unpleasant. She felt his mouth slowly sliding away and, just when she thought it was over, he kissed her softly again before he finally withdrew.

She opened her eyes at last and saw him staring back at her, still as stone. His expression gave away nothing. She searched his face, his steely eyes, but he was impassive. Sansa bit her lip, confounded. It finally occurred to her that he might be waiting for something now too. The room was strobed with green light from the battle outside. She thought about what he'd said earlier. _"I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them."_ She considered his words carefully. He did always seem to protect her, shield her, save her. She believed she would be safe with him, safer than she was with the Lannisters, safer than she might be with Stannis if he took the city. Sansa took another deep breath and, feeling bold once more, simply said, "I'll go with you."

Clegane didn't look surprised. He didn't seem moved at all in fact, but wordlessly reached up to her throat with a bloody gauntlet. Sansa stopped breathing altogether until she realized his intent. His fingers clutched at the gold lion pendant that hung limply around her neck. The precious metal links pinched at her skin before yielding to his strength. Unceremoniously he let the Lannister gold slip from his hand into the nearby washbasin, the water seeming black as tar, emerald sparkles glinting off the surface. They said nothing else to each other. Sansa replaced her dainty slippers with leather boots and pulled on her travelling cloak. Clegane took her hand and pulled her out into the passage, the flickering green light fading behind them as they disappeared into the night.


End file.
